


the hole where the choice should be

by crabbyprince, taciturntestament



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alcohol, Blood, Depression, Dirk smokes, Drugs, F/F, Friendly Murder, Fuck the epilogues and HS2 we write character growth like men, Gen, Homestuck typical violence, Illustrated, M/M, Multiple Deaths, Not Epilogue Compliant, Other, Post Game, Self-destructive habits, Time Shenanigans, Trans Character, Trans Dirk Strider, Trans Vriska Serket, Vriska and Dirk are dumb gay disasters, Vriska drinks, poor coping skills
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:30:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22311073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crabbyprince/pseuds/crabbyprince, https://archiveofourown.org/users/taciturntestament/pseuds/taciturntestament
Summary: And then you’re back at the party, back in the bathroom, and you are looking your reflection dead in the eyes as the music starts again.
Relationships: Auto-Responder | Lil Hal & Dirk Strider, Dave Strider & Dirk Strider, Dirk Strider & Roxy Lalonde, Dirk Strider & Vriska Serket, Dirk Strider/Jake English (Past), Dirk Strider/Karkat Vantas, John Egbert & Vriska Serket, John Egbert/Vriska Serket (Past), Kanaya Maryam/Rose Lalonde, Rose Lalonde & Dirk Strider, Roxy Lalonde/Calliope, Terezi Pyrope & Vriska Serket, Terezi Pyrope/Vriska Serket
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	the hole where the choice should be

**Author's Note:**

> This is an au I’ve been working on for a couple of months with [@crabbyprince](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crabbyprince/pseuds/crabbyprince) and [@prinsea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/prinsea/pseuds/prinsea), and it’s based off of the show Russian Doll on Netflix, which I highly suggest you check out!
> 
> A song directly from the show that I would recommend for the general vibe of this first chapter and the whole fic is Gotta Get Up by Harry Nilsson

Your name is Vriska Serket, and you have arrived at the conclusion that you are not putting up with this bullshit for the whole night.

You have decided that human parties are awful, and human music is even worse. Why the fuck are you here? Why were you invited in the first place? It’s not like any of the humans actively _like_ you. Not that you like any of them either. Except maybe John—you always get a kick out of needling away at him, but you wouldn’t go so far as to call that “friendship.” A good place for you to plant your antagonism, maybe! He’s an acquaintance at most, but he’s been so _mopey_ lately. You aren’t itching to land yourself waist deep in crybaby bullshit, and besides, you’re a Serket! You killed Lord English! This world is yours for the taking, and who needs friends to enjoy a reward? Not you, that’s for certain.

You frown at your reflection. You’ve spent the last thirty minutes or so in the bathroom. You thought that the music might be quieter in here, but no, your luck has decidedly gone and shit itself for the night, and to top it off, someone is knocking on the door. Can’t you just be allowed a few seconds of privacy between yourself and the load gaper? It’s better company than over half the chumps out there.

The knocking stops. Thank _fuck_ , now you can just—

Annnnnnnnd there it is again! _Motherfucker!!!!!!!!_

You slam your hands down on the countertop—they’re still wet, oops, Lalonde Number Two will just have to deal with the smears—and grit your teeth. You glare at the mirror and growl somewhere low in your throat as the knocking continues.

“Alright! Fuck!” you yell.

You abandon your oh so adored spot in front of the sink and yank the door open. There’s a rather impatient looking troll standing there, their hand hovering midair in front of where the door was. Their face almost instantly changes upon seeing you, their eyes going wide. You step past them and glare at them. They stare at you, frozen. You’ve never seen this person in your life.

“Well?” you say. “Stop ogling me and get your ass in there!”

They bolt inside and close the door. You shake your head and begin pushing your way through the crowd. Really, who thought it was a good idea to lump all of these losers in here? Lalonde Two’s hive is big, sure, but not big enough to make this bearable.

Your head is throbbing. The drinks here aren’t worth your time as far as you’re concerned, and you haven’t found a single person worth talking to. Well, there’s Pyrope at the bar, except no. No. You aren’t doing that right now. You’re heading for the door and leaving immediately. You have a clear view of it. Naturally it’s near the bar, but that’s alright. You can sneak out of here easy! You’re the stealthiest troll you know, and you have the advantage of a crowd on your side!

Pyrope, unfortunately, has the advantage of keen hearing and an even keener sniffer, and just as you are a mere few steps away from your goal and getting away from all this fucking _noise_ , she whips her head around, and the force of the action leaves you feeling surprised that she didn’t manage to crack a few bones.

“Vriska!” she calls. Uggggggggh.

She probably had your scent on her tongue from the moment you set foot inside of this hell hole. It’s doesn’t look like she’s been actively attempting to sniff you out, but it’s more like her to wait for you to fall into her trap. That’s what this is, definitely. A trap. And you have unwittingly stumbled right into it. You should have looked for a back door. Or climbed out a window. Yeah, that’s more your style.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Terezi says, hands on her hips.

You roll your eyes. “Nope! I don’t know where you got that idea, but I avoid no one.”

Terezi tilts her head to the side and makes a face. “You’re a shitty liar,” she says. “Like really shitty. I would say that I can smell your deceit, but that was the most half-assed lie you’ve ever coughed up.”

You make a noise and step back, inching ever closer to the door. You can probably just sneeeeaaaak out of this one, yeah? You are such a genius.

Except your back collides with something solid, and you lose your balance, tumbling to the side. But then Terezi catches you with her arm under yours, and you realize that there is a much warmer hand gripping your other arm.

“Sorry about that,” says Mr. (?) Warm, and you manage to shift and get a look at your accidental assailant.

Ah, it’s Strider Number Two. The orange one. You’re glad that humans are color coded. You only know the names of the four you were most acquainted with during the game, and you aren’t about to waste your precious time learning anything about the new ones.

You huff and pull away from both of them. “I’m fine! I didn’t even _need_ your help,” you inform them, shaking your arms out.

Orange Strider raises his eyebrows, shrugs, and starts to turn away, but then Terezi speaks up.

“Where are you going?” she asks. Orange Strider tenses the fuck up.

“Uh,” he says intelligently. “Out?”

“This is _your_ wriggling day party!” Terezi says.

Oh, so that’s what this party is for? Now you’re really wondering why the hell you were invited. Unless this was Terezi’s doing. In that case, she has seriously duped you. You owe her some credit, you think.

Orange guy shifts awkwardly and rubs the back of his neck. Aren’t Striders into being all stoic and cool? He needs to find better tics, that one’s too obvious.

“Yeah, but we’ve already cut the cake and gotten the majority of the festivities out of the way. I have some things to deal with back home.”

Terezi doesn’t look satisfied with that. She purses her lips.

“Roxy is going to be mad. And Dave.”

Orange dude makes a weird noise in his throat. “I have important shit to handle,” he says. “They’ll understand.”

Wait. This is a good opportunity.

Terezi seems more interested in probing away at Orange Strider than poking around in your business for the moment, but you know she’ll get bored of that quickly and switch back to you, so you need to move fast. You take a few cautious steps backwards, testing your limits, and then bolt for the door.

“Hey!” you hear Terezi call from behind you, but it’s too late, you’re already slamming the door shut and making a break for it.

It’s a lot better outside. It’s quieter, cooler. You look the building you just left up and down, take a minute to marvel at your success, and start walking down the street. You’re going to have some fun on your own tonight. There’s a shitty little bar not too far from your hive, you think you’ll stop there. You need something stronger than the swill they were serving up back at Lalonde Two’s place, and you think your personal stash is nearly depleted as it is.

The streets are quiet, relatively empty. It’s peaceful out here.

It’s a stark contrast from what you’re accustomed to.

Earth C is too quiet. Too dull. There’s problems that arise from time to time, but nothing that can soothe the antsy feeling that clings to you. You need something to do, something to fight for. There’s nothing to push back against, nothing to _do_. You’re so used to playing the hero that now that everything is said and done, you don’t know what you’re supposed to do with yourself anymore.

You stop just outside of the bar. You don’t have to be here. You could just keep walking, head on to your hive, but…

There’s a question you keep asking yourself whenever you get onto this particular train of thought. You usually bury it back down, but sometimes it gets to you regardless of your efforts.

How much of a hero were you really?

You shake your head at yourself. What kind of sappy bullshit are you wallowing in? You don’t do that. You’re stronger than that, better than that. You don’t _do_ regret.

You head inside, and an hour later, you’re walking out with one John Egbert, your arm wrapped around his shoulder.

“Vriska, you should really—”

“Pssshhh, shut up and take me home with you, Egbert,” you tell him, nudging him in the side. “Or I can take you home. Whatever your flavor of choice is.” You wink.

“No, Vriska,” he says. “I’m not doing that.”

You groan and nudge him again, though this time you put more force behind the action.

“Oh, don’t be such a baby, John! Don’t tell me you’re afraid to get your bulge wet.”

“I’m not, I just don’t think you should be doing this. You’re _drunk_.”

You frown and pull away from him.

“Do you think I’m not good enough for you?”

“What?” he asks, looking at you incredulously. “No, that’s not what I’m—”

“You do!” you yell, stepping back from him. You jab an accusatory finger in his direction. “You think you can do better, huh?! Better than _me_?!”

“Vriska—”

“Well you know what? I’m a fucking _bombshell_! You should be thanking me for even trying to sink to your level! I’m out of your league! I can fuck anyone I want!”

You’re walking backwards as you yell at him. The sidewalk is icy in places from the cold weather, but you can manage. You might be a bit uneasy on your feet, but this is nothing. You’ve handled worse.

John looks more panicked now, more worried. Ha, he’s probably just upset that he isn’t gonna get a good lay tonight. Fucking dweeb had his shot and blew it!

“Vriska, stop! There’s—”

“Fuck you, Egbert! I’m gonna go find someone cooler and hotter to screw! I’m—”

“Vriska, there’s a car coming!”

“Wha—”

John reaches for you, but his hand falls just short of grabbing you. You try to turn to look behind you, but you slip on the ice before you can see anything. One second, you’re falling. The next, your body is colliding with a car, rolling over the top of it, and smacking against the pavement.

The car screeches to a halt. John comes rushing to your side. You’re gasping and wheezing, cerulean blood bubbling up out of your mouth and choking you.

“I’m here, it’s gonna be okay, you’re gonna be okay,” John tells you. He gets down on his knees next to you, hovers his hands over you like he doesn’t know what to do. He takes one of your hands into his. It hurts. God, it _hurts_ , and you cry out. Your chest is burning as you try to breathe past the blood filling your mouth and throat, rushing out of your nose. You try to move, try to do something, but your body is broken all over, and all you end up doing is letting out a garbled scream.

“Don’t move, okay? That’s not—I’m calling for help, just stay still, just breathe. It’s alright. I’m here.”

You’re cold. You’re so cold, and you’re only getting colder. You don’t like it, and you cling desperately to that human warmth coming from John’s fingers.

You don’t know if your vision is blurry from your skull hitting the pavement or from the tears filling your eyes. You’re losing sight of John. The world is getting darker, and he’s fading away. You’re dying. There’s no getting out of this, because you are dying, and you are so damn pissed off about that.

This _sucks_! What kind of fucking death is this?! You shouldn’t be going out like this. You should be dying in some sort of battle or… or something! Something better than this!

“Hey, hey, stay with me. Vriska, stay with me!”

John squeezes your hand. Your fingers go limp.

Everything goes black.

And then you’re back at the party, back in the bathroom, and you are looking your reflection dead in the eyes as the music starts again.

You turn your back to the mirror and stare at the door to the bathroom. Just like before, someone starts knocking on it.

What the fuck just happened?

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for checking this out! Feel free to leave any questions in the comments or otherwise! Art for this chapter can be found [here](https://www.instagram.com/p/B5O4fh5lOmA/?igshid=1b0a89cbv3ntq) on my instagram account!


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